


Law and Disorder

by PaulKeatingOfficial



Category: Smallville
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Gay Panic, Handcuffs, Infidelity, Lots of denial, M/M, Multi, Not a lot tho, Police Officer!Jonathan Kent, Porn Without Plot, blowjob, denial everywhere, handjobs, public, we could be in fucking eygpt that's how far in denial we are, well porn with some plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9920513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulKeatingOfficial/pseuds/PaulKeatingOfficial
Summary: Officer Jonathan Kent of the Smallville county police department has been tasked with the simple task of escorting an apprehended criminal to his cell.Unfortunately for Jonathan, Lionel Luthor proves to be a lot more handsome than, no wait, not handsome, annoying. Lionel Luthor proves to be a lot more annoyingly handsome, or, just annoying, than Jonathan was prepared to deal with.But he'll be able to deal with it so long as he keeps control of himself, which he's sure to do, right?





	

“That would be Officer Kent, to you.” Jonathan cautioned. The man he was escorting through the station didn’t seem particularly cowed. He tossed his long hair out of his face and threw a look over his shoulder, flashing an annoyingly self-assured smile.

 “I’m very sorry, sir _._ ” His voice dripped with sarcasm and he continued to strut down the hall, even with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Jonathan’s jaw clenched and he quickened his pace. He just wanted to get this done as quickly as possible.

They’d found this infuriating offender driving double the speed limit in a hospital zone, in a car of the same make and model as one reported stolen several days ago. When they pulled him over he’d told them his name instantly, something Luthor, as if the name should mean something to them. When they didn’t recognise it, instead of yelling and posturing, as Jonathan was accustomed to, Luthor had just smiled slowly and scratched at his beard.

Jonathan’s partner, Jack, was held up at the front desk, doing Luthor’s paperwork, so Jonathan was locking him up alone. They entered the lockup, a corridor of six holding cells altogether and all of them empty. Smallville’s crime rate was not particularly impressive.  

“And what are you planning on doing with me now, _officer_?” He couldn’t see Luthor’s face but the grin was evident in his voice. Still, Jonathan stayed silent. Luthor had been chattering at him the entire drive to the station, at one point leaning so far forward in his seat that his nose was touching the cage that separated him and Jack from the detainees. He had commented extensively on Jonathan’s demeanour (impressively stern with a tendency towards righteousness), his looks (very farm-boy handsome, and so striking in his uniform), and his marriage (to a very lucky woman he supposed, he would very much like to visit her sometime). That last remark had nearly thrown the car off the road as Jonathan jerked the wheel trying to not to respond.  Luthor had just laughed and asked to turn the radio on. When Jonathan refused, Luthor simply started crooning tunelessly to himself anyway.

Luthor seemed frustrated at Jonathan’s unwillingness to play along. As soon as Jonathan swung open the cell door he jerked himself around and out of Jonathan’s grip. Immediately Jonathan threw himself at Luthor, pushing an arm across his chest, one hand on Luthor’s shoulder, near his throat, the other on his gun. Luthor, however, made no further move to escape, rather, he let himself be easily pressed into the cell bars. He smirked into Jonathan’s face, clearly pleased at the reaction he’d elicited from him.

“I asked, officer,” calm authority flowed from his tone, as if he were not currently pinned to a cell door in a police lockup, “what you were planning on doing with me now?”  

“I am planning on putting you in this cell.” Jonathan didn’t have the patience for whatever game Luthor was playing. “Then, I’m going to fill out your arrest paperwork and send you to a much smaller cell, with thicker bars.”

“Oh officer, you can try harder than that, can’t you?” Luthor’s tongue darted to his lower lip. Jonathan’s gaze followed it before realising he was staring at Luthor’s mouth and snapping out of it. Luthor was looking at him closely, a cold intensity in his eyes. Jonathan felt Luthor’s leg press up against his crotch and jumped. He caught himself quickly and kept his grip on Luthor, unsure whether this was some kind of ploy.

 “Mr Luthor, you are harassing a police officer.”  Jonathan heard the crack in his voice and winced internally. Luthor pursed his lips contritely, still rubbing his leg up against Jonathan. Jonathan looked quickly back down the corridor, praying that Jack was going to storm in.   

“I think your partner is going to be busy with paperwork for quite a while.” Luthor said, reading Jonathan’s mind as easily as if he’d spoken aloud.

“Forty-five minutes at the least.” Luthor sounded as if he were teasing him but Jonathan didn’t understand how. “Half an hour?” He frowned at Jonathan’s blank expression. “Twenty minutes?” He said, a hopeful edge rising in his voice. “Ten?” His expression was doleful, “Please don’t make me go any lower, I had such high hopes for you. You look so strapping and virile.” Jonathan finally caught on that Luthor was talking about, sex, and almost released him out of shock. Instead he turned Luthor around and pushed him, finally, into the cell.

He fixed the crinkled edges of his uniform as he began a stern reprimand.  

“Mr Luthor-” was as far as he got before being interrupted.

“Please, call me Lionel. I feel we’ve reached a special place in our relationship.” He punctuated his sentence with a glance at Jonathan’s groin. Jonathan hastily adjusted his trousers, embarrassed to find that he was getting hard. Lionel. He felt a twinge of recognition at the name, but brushed it aside. It was time to put Luthor in his place once and for all. Jonathan squared his shoulders and planted his feet, trying to seem intimidating but unfortunately he seemed to be eliciting an entirely different reaction.  

Lionel’s teeth dug into his lower lip as he looked Jonathan up and down. He inched closer, looking absurdly as if he were going to pounce. Jonathan put out a hand to stop his advance, placing it, not roughly, but firmly on Lionel’s shoulder. He was not prepared for what happened next. The moment his hand touched Lionel, the man dropped to his knees, causing Jonathan to stumble forward. He was now looming over Lionel, who’s expression was full of mock surprise.

“My my, Officer, what a precarious position you do have me in.” A breathy quality had crept into his voice. “Think of the things you could have me do.” He was obviously trying to goad him, and it was working. Jonathan could barely speak through his indignation. Unable to find his voice he simply lifted Lionel by the lapels of his immaculately tailored jacket and spun him around so he didn’t have to look at the mockery on his face.

“Well,” Lionel began, almost before he’d caught his breath, “I didn’t expect you to move so fast, but I’m certainly pleased with your initiative.” He was so casually insolent it made Jonathan mad. More than mad, his entire body was overwhelmed by a sudden flood of rage. He barely even saw himself pushing Lionel up against the cell’s stone wall. And he was, frankly, astonished to find himself unzipping his trousers. Lionel’s head was craning over his shoulder, trying to see what Jonathan was doing. Jonathan pushed him back to face the wall but Lionel had already begun furiously trying to help Jonathan along with his handcuffed hands.

Within moments his cock was between Lionel’s hands. His wrist movements were highly restricted by the metal but it didn’t matter, Jonathan was doing much of the work himself. He rutted up against Lionel, his heavy breathing sounding ten times louder in the silent room. Lionel ran his palm over Jonathan’s tip, spreading the precum he found there over his hand and along Jonathan’s cock.

Jonathan shuddered and braced his hand on the wall. His breathing did sound abominably loud, more like panting, really, and was that a whimper he heard? He buried his head in the crook of Lionel’s neck to smother the noises he was making. Lionel smelt expensive, like dark coffee and cloves, and the scent went straight to Jonathan’s head. The pressure was building in his cock and his right leg was shaking slightly, his calves felt weak. Lionel’s skin was warm and salty beneath Jonathan’s mouth and his beard pleasantly tickled Jonathan’s cheek.

“Can I get a little help here, Kent?” Lionel’s voice was hoarse, with hardly any trace of the flippancy he’d earlier demonstrated. However, there was just about enough authority in his voice to make Jonathan automatically obey. His free hand scrabbled around Lionel’s waist and fumbled with his buttons. He managed to undo a few before pushing his hand inside Lionel’s trousers and palming his erection through his underwear. Lionel groaned underneath him and Jonathan felt it rumble through his chest. That was almost too much for him. His hips thrust rapidly, moving without instruction from his brain. Lionel’s fingers were stretching out, trying to reach every bit of Jonathan he could find. Jonathan’s heart was thumping in his chest, he felt like it was about jump out his throat. It wasn’t until Lionel had his fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly, to a regular rhythm, that Jonathan calmed himself and released the breath he’d subconsciously been holding.

He wasn’t going to last much longer, but the trembling pressure he was feeling was too good to give up so easily. He concentrated on touching Lionel, determined to ride it out. His hand crept under the band of Lionel’s briefs and inched down into the curly hair at the base of his cock. He hesitated there, finding resistance from somewhere in the back of his mind. A small, seemingly involuntary, and very undignified, whine came from Lionel and cut through Jonathan’s reticence. That simple sound was enough to push Jonathan’s hand down and wrap it around Lionel.

Immediately he experienced the strangest sensation. Stroking Lionel’s cock and having Lionel simultaneously do the same for him, especially when he couldn’t see either, was disorienting. It reminded him of an optical illusion he’d experience once on a trip to Metropolis’s science museum. For the illusion, they’d had him place his arm behind a mirror reflecting a fake arm. They’d then run feathers over both his arm and the fake arm, before stabbing the fake arm with a large butcher’s knife. His heart had almost stopped and he’d sworn he’d been stabbed himself until he withdrew his hand to find it entirely unharmed. Standing here, now, his weight fully pressed against Lionel, groaning into Lionel’s neck, hips and hand both working greedily, he couldn’t say if he were experiencing the feather or the knife.

A sound echoed down the corridor and his stomach dropped. Definitely the knife. He made to move away but Lionel pushed back into him. His head snapped around, a deep frown on his face and a nasty snarl on his lips.

“Don’t you dare!” His breath was heavy and irregular and his hands were tugging at Jonathan. Jonathan, not needing too much convincing to continue himself, increased his rhythm, pushing past the pain when his wrist began to cramp. He swore he could hear footsteps in the hall, but before he could think of stopping, Lionel’s fierce expression flashed in front of his eyes. That look, there was anger there, and lots of it, but it was motivated by a hungry, desperate need. It was a heady combination and Jonathan found himself drinking it in. Lionel’s burning green eyes, and the way his hair fell in his face because his hands weren’t free to push it back, the grey sneaking up through the bottom of his beard. A door slammed shut somewhere close and Jonathan came suddenly and messily. His semen spattered both the stone wall and Lionel’s hands.

Lionel stopped touching him then, and he was both disappointed and grateful as Lionel turned around and pressed his back to the wall. Again, Jonathan was tempted to stop, to leave, zip himself up and lock the door behind him. Despite that likely being the smartest course of action, he was once more held up by Lionel’s face. His expression was still harsh and Jonathan quickly retraced all the features he’d been imaging, his beard, his hair, his eyes. His eyes. The moment he made eye contact with him, Lionel’s mouth softened slightly, and curled into a small smile.

Instead of retreating, Jonathan moved closer and took Lionel in his hand again. Despite how close they were, thrust right up against each other, Jonathan was still beyond surprised when he felt Lionel’s mouth on his. Somehow, just kissing him felt far more indecent than anything they’d done so far. He wasn’t particularly surprised, however, to find himself kissing Lionel back. His body hadn’t really been his to control since Lionel had got on his knees. His free hand buried itself in Lionel’s hair, forcing him closer. Lionel moaned into Jonathan’s mouth and stiffened. He came into Jonathan’s hand, and the feeling of another man’s warm ejaculate on his palm was enough to snap Jonathan out of the reverie he’d been labouring in.

He stepped away, tripping slightly as he struggled to control his feet. He wiped his hand on his trousers without thinking about it, and regretted it a second later when he saw the embarrassing dark stain it left. He tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped his trousers quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a wide smile on Luthor’s face. The brazen cockiness that had disappeared during their brief tryst was now in full force, accompanied by a satisfied sort of calm.

“Officer?” Jonathan grimaced at Luthor’s use of his title again. “Would you be so kind as to assist me?” He nodded down at his open fly, a smirk in his voice. “I am a little tied up at the moment.”  Jonathan contrived to look professional and ignored Luthor’s comment as he shuffled over to re-button Luthor’s pants. He cleared his throat loudly and for some reason he started nodding as he made his way out the cell door.    

He’d finally managed to get the key in the lock and turn it just as Jack appeared at the entrance to the corridor. Inwardly he jumped about a foot in the air, but in reality, he was sure it was just a sizeable flinch.  Jack stormed down the hall, shoulders squared and footsteps heavy. Jonathan was convinced in a second that he’d heard everything. He was sorting out a hurried explanation in his mind, possibly involving an escape attempt and several accomplices when Jack got to him.

“You okay buddy?” Jack was looking at him strangely, but there was no hint of accusation in his face.

“Hmmm?” Was the only response Jonathan could muster.

“You’re white as a sheet.”

“’m fine.” His voice sounded thick. Luckily Jack wasn’t in a mood to question him, he was entirely preoccupied with Luthor, who was sitting on the cell’s small wooden bench, legs crossed and pretending not to notice them. Jonathan watched Jack obviously try to control himself before speaking.

“Mr Luthor?” His voice was unnaturally polite. Jonathan knew Jack’s regular polite voice, and this was not it. His eye twitched as Luthor pretended to just notice they were standing there. “You are being released, effective immediately.”

Jonathan stared at Jack, eyes wide. Jack just gave him a small shake of his head, they’d talk about it later. A look of mock surprise crossed Luthor’s face.

“What luck I do have. I must say it’s nice to see the long arm of the law doing its duty so promptly.”  He stood immediately and Jonathan unlocked the door at a nod from Jack. His stomach twisted horribly, he was sure that Luthor was going to make some comment, some jibe at him in front of Jack. To his immense surprise Luthor was largely silent as they marched him out, although his body did brush Jonathan’s for a second as he exited the cell. Jonathan forced his mind elsewhere for the duration of that excruciatingly long second.

At the front desk Jack retrieved the key for Luthor’s handcuffs. Jonathan stared solidly into middle distance as Jack unlocked his cuffs. It didn’t stop him from seeing Luthor rub his wrists slowly before raising a hand to his mouth and sucking something off the side of his thumb. Jonathan scratched at the stain on his pants and tried very hard to convince himself he didn’t know how it’d got there. To distract himself he took special interest in the paperwork Jack had set down to go collect Luthor’s valuables.

On the page in front of him, when his eyes had finally stopped clouding over, he read the word _CEO_ in bold letters under the heading “occupation”. When he was first brought in Jonathan had assumed it was a joke. They’d asked him what company he ran and he’d simply replied “I’m an entrepreneur,” and winked at Jonathan. Now, after Luthor’s miraculous release from custody it was finally starting to click. His mouth went dry as he realised who was standing in front of him. Luthor left with a skip in his step and, after one last look back at Jonathan, jumped in the back of an elegant black car that had soundlessly rolled up behind him.

“That was Lionel Luthor.” His voice didn’t even sound like his own.

“Yep”

“As in…”

“Lionel Luthor. Owner and operator of _L.L.Publications.”_

“And they own-”

“Every goddamn paper in Kansas”

“Right” Jonathan couldn’t stop fixing his shirt, mechanically untucking and tucking it back in. His head started to hurt as he remembered something else.

“He’s also the mayor’s-”

“Best friend, yeah.” Jack heaved an angry sigh and gestured to the phone on the desk. “Who’d you think gave us the call?”

Jonathan nodded absentmindedly, in a state of such complete distress that he was inexplicably calm. He wiped his hand down his trousers and thought of Luthor, who was probably out there somewhere crowing about…nothing. Because nothing had happened. He hadn’t done anything at all that afternoon.  

 

***

Just like he wasn’t doing anything at the Annual Smallville Midnight Charity Ball held two weeks later. He’d been specifically requested to be a part of the mayor’s security detail that night and he was definitely still at his post. He was certainly not on his knees in the coat room, sans fancy suit jacket, tie undone and Lionel Luthor’s cock down his throat. He wasn’t doing anything in the coat room. Nor was he doing anything in the back of Lionel’s limousine at the end of that same night.

It was just like when he didn’t find himself in Lionel’s penthouse apartment next month, watching his wife ride Lionel’s face as he applied plenty of lubricant and slipped himself onto Lionel’s ready cock. Just like the nothing he did pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lionel’s 31st floor office. Just like the gasps he didn’t emit and the entreaties to god he didn’t make that time he wasn’t taking Lionel from behind as he watched Lionel do the same to Martha. Just like the pictures Lionel definitely didn’t have of Jonathan tied to his opulent four poster bed with golden silk bonds.

No sir, Officer Jonathan Kent wouldn’t dream of doing those things. If you ignored the dream he most certainly didn’t have last night. In fact, he barely recollected who Lionel Luthor was, and if you’ll beg his pardon now a car has just come to collect him. No, ignore the bearded man inside, he’s no-one. Did he just blow a kiss at Jonathan, and is that Martha Kent in the backseat beside him? No, sorry, you must be mistaken. Goodbye.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
